


Fry Up

by Titch360



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A National French Fry Day submission.<br/>Nightwing and Robin escape a botched criminal takedown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fry Up

Fry Up

-A National French Fry Day Submission

 

“Uh…run!”

Robin looked up as Nightwing’s voice entered his ear through the communicator.  He saw the mass of henchmen approaching and knew exactly what the older man was talking about.  The goons they had been fighting had only been armed with bats and knives, fairly simple things for the favored son and the ex-assassin to handle.  The new thugs were armed with high powered machine guns.

Robin dropped the unconscious man he had been punching and turned to follow Nightwing in a dignified retreat.  The dignified retreat devolved into a pell-mell flight when bullets started pinging off of the pavement at their feet and embedding into the walls over their heads.

Meeting up behind a cargo container to catch their breath, Robin asked, “Who are these guys, Nightwing?”

Panting to catch his breath, Nightwing answered, “It looks like these are Thorne’s men.”

“Looks like,” Robin asked, incredulous, “Didn’t you bother to find out who we were attacking before you led us out here?”

Nightwing gave a smirk and said, “As I remember it, you were the one who said we could handle anything, and begged me to take you with tonight.”

Grumbling, Robin stated, “I figured you would at least have solid intel before we moved.  It didn’t work so well the last time we jumped on a weak lead.”

Nightwing winced, remembering back to his days as Batman, when another lapse in information had almost cost the then-dynamic duo their lives.  “Yeah…well.  We’re still breathing, aren’t we?”

A stream of lead bounced off of their covering cargo container, causing a pronounced flinch from the younger vigilante.  “For now.  What’s next on your hit parade of good ideas, Nightwing?”

The voices of the approaching goons could be heard, calling for a cease fire until the vigilantes were visible again.  Nightwing looked around, until he saw a potential safe haven.  “This way.”

Current and former Robins stood and sprinted across the street and into an alley, leading away from the storage lot that had served as tonight’s criminal rendezvous. They were spotted as they entered the alley.  Bullets chewed away at the brick wall entrance to the confined space mere feet behind the vigilantes.

Exiting the alley, Nightwing and Robin each stopped and took up ambushing positions on either side of the exit.  They waited until they could hear the heavy footfalls of the running criminals before turning back to the alley and launching batarangs at their enemies.  The front two thugs were felled by the heavy, steel projectiles, but the eight following were only slowed long enough to jump over their fallen comrades before continuing pursuit.

Reduced to running again, Robin asked, “Who is this Thorne, anyway?”

“Rupert Thorne,” Nightwing answered.  “He’s the number two mob boss in Gotham.  He’s been pretty quiet for the past couple years.  Before you came to town, he lost a pretty vicious gang war between his organization and the Falcone crime syndicate.  I assume you’ve heard of them?”

Robin rolled his eyes.  “Tt, of course.  You can’t live in Gotham without knowing who the Falcone’s are.”

“There was a time when you couldn’t live here without knowing the Thorne’s, either.  You had to be careful to know who was currently controlling the area of town you lived in.  Falcone has always been the top dog of organized crime in Gotham.  Thorne actually got his start as a lieutenant in Falcone’s organization.  He wanted to take the family in new directions, but Ezio Falcone refused.  Thorne split off, and took a good number of supporters with him.  He built up power quickly, to the point where he was a competitor to his old boss.  Apparently they came to some sort of agreement, and Gotham had two families of crime.”

They headed down another alley when the gunfire got too close again.  This time, the thugs were a little more careful as they pursued their quarry through the chokepoint.  The Bats were only able to knock out one more goon through a sneak attack before being pushed back by near-constant machine gun fire.

Nightwing and Robin escaped again, and Robin asked, “Okay, if they have an agreement, why did they have a gang war?”

Nightwing smirked, “ _Had_ an agreement, not have.  Thorne got big enough where he thought he could challenge Falcone for the top spot.  Falcone slapped him down, hard.  Supposedly, Thorne is only alive now because Falcone spared him as a sign of compassion, due to their shared history.”

Robin snorted, “That’s stupid.  Don’t these crime lords ever read The Art of War?  You never leave your enemies alive, or they’ll come back, seeking revenge.”

Nightwing nodded, “It seems like that’s what’s happening now.  Why else would Thorne need military grade weapons?”

Nightwing led Robin into the first open door they had come across.  In this nearly abandoned part of town, one of the few remaining businesses was this location of Gotham Burger.  Fortunately, the only people inside were the cashier and the cook, which Nightwing quickly convinced to leave through the back door.

Robin watched from the front of the store as the goons fanned out to search for the fleeing vigilantes.  They had been able to lose their tail for a second, and it had been long enough to slip into the restaurant unseen.

“They’re coming,” Robin said.  “They split up.  It looks like they don’t know where we are.”

Nightwing nodded at the news.  “Okay.  Any ideas, little brother?”

Robin shook his head, “Not yet.  Why don’t _you_ come up with something?”

“I came up with our last plan.  It’s your turn.”

Robin shook his head, “Your last plan was ‘run’.  That’s not a plan; that’s what you do when the plan fails.  By the way, what went so wrong with tonight’s plan that we had to go to your inspired back-up plan?”

Nightwing gave a sneer and said harshly, “Commissioner Gordon promised me a SWAT team tonight.  It never showed up.  That was the only reason your dad let you come tonight.  I _don’t_ want to be the Commissioner when Batman finds out we were left out to dry tonight.”

Robin nodded slowly, “That explains why Father looked so uncomfortable during dinner, then.”

Nightwing approached and said, “He doesn’t like you being out without him yet.  You know how overprotective he is.”

“Tt.  I’m thirteen, Nightwing.  When is he going to get over that?”

Nightwing smiled down at the youth and said, “Well, let’s see.  I’m thirty, and he still treats me the same way he did when I was thirteen.  So, you have at least another seventeen years before he starts to lighten up.”

Robin’s eye roll was visible even with his mask in place.  Nightwing started to laugh when the front window of the restaurant shattered under a hail of submachine gun fire.  Nightwing and Robin ran and performed matching flips over the counter to seek safety behind the cash register.  Bullets pinged off of the counter behind them, causing Nightwing to laugh.

“I fail to see what is so funny about this situation, Nightwing.”

Still chuckling, Nightwing replied, “What is this counter made out of?  His bullets aren’t penetrating it.”

“I have a bigger concern than that, Nightwing.  I’m completely out of Batarangs.”

Nightwing patted his hidden pouches and grimaced.  “Me too, Robin.  I’m sure there’s something around here we can use.”

Robin had been having the same thought as he scanned the area behind the counter.  As Nightwing started his own search, Robin concluded his.  _Now, all I have to do is wait for…_

His cue came in the form of a distinctive ‘ _click click’_ as the goon’s gun ran dry.  In one smooth motion, Robin stood, grabbed the wire handle of what proved to be a fry basket, turned, and heaved the load at the criminal before dropping back into cover.

Nightwing winced as he saw the ersatz projectile.  It was a wire basket, pulled straight from the boiling fryer.  Scalding hot oil dripped off of the metal as it went flying by.  The one thing that allowed Nightwing to think that Robin’s choice could actually be a good weapon was the five pounds of French fries still cooking in the oil when the fry cook had fled the establishment.

“Did you hit him,” Nightwing asked.

Before Robin could answer, there was a heavy thump followed by pained cries from the thug.  Nightwing looked over at Robin, who was grinning.  The youth said, “Tt, yep.”

Nightwing peeked over the counter to see the thug on the ground, clutching at his face and writhing in pain.  He cringed as he heard the gentle popping and sizzling of the hot oil on the man’s flesh.

He shook his head and said, “Such a waste.”

Robin cocked his head, “That he turned to a life of crime, and ended up meeting us?”

Nightwing looked at Robin and slowly shook his head. “No.  Those were curly fries, and they look like they would have been incredible.”

Robin stood and looked at what he had done.  The criminal had fallen silent, still covering his face in pain.  The basket lay nearby, with its load of dark brown, seasoned goodness spread across the dingy floor of the eatery.  “I will never understand your affinity for deep-fried foods. You grew up eating Pennyworth’s cooking.  I would think that would spoil your taste buds for anything else.  I know it’s working on mine.”

Nightwing smiled, “You forget, I was a Bludhaven cop for five years.  There really isn’t room for a twelve-course meal in a patrol car.”

Robin turned back to Nightwing as fresh shots rang out.  Robin was dragged back to cover as bullets tore through the wall behind were Robin had recently been standing.  Nightwing handed Robin a plastic ketchup bottle.  Robin took it and looked at it strangely.

“What am I supposed to do with this, Nightwing?”

“You’re the expert with improvised weapons, make something up.  I believe in you.”

Silence rang through the restaurant again as their new shooter reloaded.  Nightwing was ready to make a move when he heard a hissing sound break the quiet.  Looking around, it took him a good ten seconds to locate the source of the noise.

His eyes widened under his mask as he saw a small cloud spraying out of the nicked gas line.  A bullet had pierced the side of the metal pipe, and natural gas was flowing out, just above the still-hot fryer.

“Shit.”

Nightwing grabbed Robin’s arm and yanked the boy to his feet.  They both ran out through the back of the restaurant as the gunman opened fire again.  It was the last thing he ever did, as a stray spark from a ricochet lit off the gas line.  The restaurant went up in a giant ball of fire, the shockwave knocking Nightwing and Robin to the ground as they ran as fast as they could.

Rubbing his ears as the blast echoed in his head, Nightwing said, “Well, that was fun.”

“Fun?” Robin asked in disbelief.  “You almost got us blown up, again!”

“But I didn’t, little brother,” Nightwing said, with a smirk.  “I think it’s a good bet that we won’t be followed anymore tonight.”

“You think?” Robin said sarcastically.  “Half the block is on fire, and every car alarm within half a mile is going off.  If any of those henchmen survived, they are probably too busy licking their own wounds to care about us.”

Nightwing gave a brilliant smile, “Exactly!  Come on, let’s go.  I’m hungry, let’s stop for some burgers.”

Robin smirked, “Do you think that’s safe, after what you did to the last burger place we went to?”

Nightwing looked back at the flaming ruin that used to be Gotham Burger.  “But I really want some curly fries now.”

_End._


End file.
